Rotten Apples

Over and over we work for reward

Only to see we’re worse than before

Remembering a hero long forgotten

A soldier of fortune, whose apples turned rotten

You wonder what turned that dashing young steed

To a stallion chained to a 90 pound wagon

He gallops and trots to see people arrive

Returns and re-trots to give others a ride

A handful of meal is all that he’s offered

Though he’d rather partake in rotten apples

Now bittered and softened